


Scattered Pieces

by Missy



Category: Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, California, F/M, Hollywood, Post-Canon, Post-Divorce, Screenwriters, Single Parents, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Richie Cunningham tries to adjust to life as a single screenwriter in Los Angeles, and bumps into an old friend - and an old date - putting her own pieces back together.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Richie Cunningham/Shirley Feeney
Comments: 42
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amythis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/gifts).



> Inspired by a prompt from Amythis!

The scene sits in Richie’s belly like an iron ball. He’s read the novel three times. He has his instructions down from the studio – what needs to be taken out and what needs to be put back in. He knows that he has to get from point at to point b so he can sell his own script, but the scene sticks in his craw.

It’s one where a mother and father have to explain to their child that they’re getting divorced.

Maybe it’s because he’d lived it out in real life.

It was, as the Fonz might say, one of those things. Hollywood had ripped them apart. They had grown up in different ways, and his long time in the army hadn’t let them do it together. The guilt is still killing him. Lori Beth has the kids – he thinks that’s only fair, and though he wants to split custody with her he has no idea how to approach the subject. They’ve gone home to Wisconsin and God only knows how much his folks know about it all right now. He just hopes they’re not overtly ashamed of him. He’s not had the courage to call them up and find out for himself.

Fonzie calls every week, because he’s the Fonz, and Richie knows if he doesn’t talk to him he’ll somehow find a way to waffle into the phone line and force a conversation. He has yet to find an antidote to the Fonz’s calm forcefulness, and deep down Richie doesn’t want to.

“You gotta get out, Cunningham,” Fonzie’s growl came through the phone. “It ain’t healthy to sit around and stew in your own juices.” 

Well, Fonzie had never been wrong before. 

Richie grabs his overcoat and heads out into the California sunshine, walking without an aim or a goal.

***

Somehow, he ends up at the supermarket. 

Maybe because it’s a neutral safe point; maybe because he’s hungry and his apartment is understocked (last time he checked the cabinet had crackers and a can of green beans left). He drifts through the aisles picking up anything that looks tempting and absolutely isn’t watching the road ahead when he slams into an oncoming cart.

He looks up to apologize, only to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Shirley Feeney?”

“Oh my goodness, Richie Cunningham?” she held the package of cookies closer to her heart. “What are you doing in California?”

“It’s a long story – hey, do you have time to talk?”

It was the most forward motion he’d made toward continuing his life yet. And there were, he supposed, weirder ways to bump into ones own past. 

But Shirley smiled and nodded.

He waited for her to cash out, put his own groceries through the check-out line, and waited for her outside.

“So…” he started, when she emerged – nervous in her miniskirt and boots, and looking all the world like the same girl who had convinced him to help her win a TV set , “how have things been?”

“Oh,” she fluffed out the ends of her pixie cut. “Well…same old, same old.”

“Really?”

She winced. “Not really. I um…experienced a brief marriage to a doctor.”

“Oh,” he said. Past tense. This was fascinating. “Why brief?”

“It was an impulsive gesture and we were incompatible,” she explained. “And…well, I was pregnant.”

He gasped. “You?”

“Well, it isn’t so inconceivable. Literally.” She said. “Little Eddie’s all I’ve got left from the marriage. How are you and Lori Beth doing?”

Every time Richie said the words, they didn’t get easier, to his dismay. “We separated two months ago.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “Me and my big mouth. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right. I have to get used to talking about it. The boys are with her, and we’re talking about custody.” And that fact ripped Richie up a little bit. Not being in his kid’s lives? All he could think of was Fonzie with Danny back home, being a full-on single dad without missing a beat, of his parents, who had loved one another without an iota of reservation their whole lives. To talk about it out loud was to admit to full-on failure, to his own shame, his own inadequacies. 

“It just didn’t work out, did it?” she asked. He nodded. A sympathetic wince. “I know the feeling. Eddie’s with me and Laverne…” she opened her purse, and then scribbled the address down on a tiny pad with a pencil she had at the bottom of the sack. Richie stood silent and confused beside her, amazed for the millionth time over women and their capacity to produce any and everything from their handbags.

“It’s a little converted Spanish manse in Burbank,” she said. “Don’t knock on any of the other doors. You’ll run into Lenny and Squiggy.”

“What? They followed you here, too?”

Shirley winced. “Yes, well…I suppose we all have an effect on our friends.”

Richie abruptly remembered that Ralph and Potsie had not followed him all the way to Los Angeles. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Um…I’ll be sure to call before I drop by?” He said the words without realizing he’d committed himself.

“Of course. You’ve always been the most polite gentleman I’ve ever had the pleasure to spend time with,” Shirley said.

“Thank you,” Richie said idly. He waved her goodbye, trying to balance the address and his groceries in the same hand. “Tell Laverne I say hello.”

“Absolutely. See you soon, Richie.”

As she walked to the bus stop and he headed to his rental car, Richie sensed it would be a case of ‘sooner’ rather than ‘later’ with Shirley.

Or at least he hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

Shirley kneed open the front door to the apartment she’d been sharing with Laverne for five years – well, five years, technically minus the year or so she’d lived in Germany with Walter. But she didn’t want to mince garlic over tiny qualms. Her mind was too busy reeling over what had just happened.

Richie Cunningham, of all people to bump into! The last time she’d seen him he’d been on that awful farmer's property and they'd nearly been forced into marriage. An event that would've been disgusting, as he had a serious girlfriend in Lori Beth and she and Carmine were hot and heavy at the time (and heaven knew that that was an on and off situation impossible to predict). She’d always thought of him as a nice kid with a good moral backbone. The last time she’d heard of him – fleetingly, a couple of weeks before she and Laverne had moved to California – he’d been running off to see Lori Beth for the first time since his honorary discharge from the military. She’d heard at a distance about his career, his marriage, his children. Had sent a card when both of the kids were born. He’d done likewise for Eddie’s birth. Seeing him again had been such a profound shock, one that had erased years and disappointments. 

Something life-changing. So life-changing that she didn’t notice that her son and her best friend were nowhere to be found. At least until a rather melodramatic and familiar moan came from the sofa.

“Oh, Laverne!”

She rolled her eyes, carrying the grocery bags to the kitchen table. That motion drew two blue eyes to her form. “Shirley!” Lenny Kosnowski squeaked out and sat up, buttoning up the front of his shirt and flushing.

A palm struck out and tapped his cheek. “Whatt’re you doing, calling me Shirley?” Laverne growled, then sat up and saw her best friend was home. She pulled her blouse closed. “Oh no!”

“What are the two of you doing?” Shirley snapped. “Where is Eddie?”

“Relax, Shirl – we left Eddie with someone real responsible,” Lenny said, trying to shove his feet back into his saddle shoes.

“Yeah, a true prince,” Laverne said, nervously clipping up her hair. 

“Hello!” Squiggy had slammed the door open, carrying Eddie in on his hip. Squiggy was in a very loud polyester suit with orange tiger stripes on a glittery red silver backdrop and a bile green tie, and Eddie was wearing one to match. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked Squiggy.

“Well, y’know how I got a jury duty notice?” 

“Yes,” Shirley replied, privately shuddering at the existence of a California legal system that would let Andrew Squiggman sit in judgment of anyone.

“I was gonna send Eddie in my place!” Squiggy said.

“Yeah,” Lenny said. “When they ask him if he knows the suspect, he’ll just goo goo and he’ll be so cute they’ll get rid of him real quick!”

“Or throw the trial!” Squiggy said.

“Shut up and give me my son,” Shirley said, and Squiggy for once did as he was told. 

“Sheesh, sensitive for a divorced broad,” Squiggy remarked. 

“Shut up about that too,” Shirley said, carrying Eddie into the kitchen. She sat him in his high chair, then got to putting the groceries away. 

“Squig, I think you’d better go,” Laverne was saying.

“Yeah, I’ll see you after me and Laverne get out of pre-cana at nine,” Lenny said.

“All right, I’m getting – you still owe me twenty for watching Shirley’s spawn so you could make out,” Squiggy said.

“I’ll pay you ten,” Lenny said.

“Hah! A hard bargain to drive, but I’ll take five.”

“It’s a deal!” Lenny said. He looked to Laverne for confirmation as Squiggy stomped out of the room. 

She gave him a smile – and gave Shirley a fond roll of the eyes. Lenny kissed Laverne’s cheek and said, “I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Okay. You fill up the tank?”

“Yeah, halfway,” he grinned.

Laverne watched him leave with what Shirley knew for a fact we goo goo eyes. Good lord. “I still don’t believe you’re marrying that man,” Shirley remarked.

“Have you ever looked at him from behind?” Shirley gagged and Laverne shrugged. “Hey, things change. Just look at you.”

“Fair,” Shirley remarked. She tugged at the end of her long hair and her empire-waisted bright-orange smock. She needed to go out shopping for something that didn’t make her look frumpy; she’d more than lost her baby weight, but her wardrobe didn’t reflect that. “And I’m not the only one who’s changed. You won’t believe who I bumped into at the supermarket.”

Laverne bent to cootchy-coo Eddie’s chin. She could be a good aunt, honestly, when the mood struck her. “Who? Somebody from work? Chuck? One of Rhonda’s boyfriends?”

“Richie Cunningham,” said Shirley.

“Richie Cunningham?! The little redheaded kid Fonzie used to hang out with?” Laverne asked. “The one you went on a couple of pity dates with?”

“They weren’t pity dates!” Shirley said. “They were strategic gestures toward romance.”

“So a pity date where you got a TV at the end.”

“Yes,” Shirley winced. “In any event, he’s in town, and staying, apparently.”

“Really?” Laverne wondered. “Why?”

“Well, from what I understand,” Shirley said, “he and Lori Beth are getting divorced. Their sons are with her. He said he’d call before he came over, but he does want to visit.”

“That’ll be nice.” Laverne whistled. “Boy, I thought love was dead when Edna dumped pop for that matador.”

“And you’re going to marry Leonard Kosnowski?”

She grinned. “Yeah. He’s the only proof I got left that it’s still real.”

Shirley rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course.” She made a ‘shoo’ gesture. “Go to your classes. We’ll have dinner when you come home.”

Laverne bobbed her head, grabbing her coat on the way out. “Don’t wait up too late for me. Or call. Or go looking for us at that hill over the Hollywood sign…”

“Please don’t involve me in your smutty activities,” Shirley begged, and started setting out Eddie’s dinner. She shook her head as Laverne headed out the door, hoping she’d remembered her keys. 

She got a glass of water for herself and half a jar of the food in Eddie’s mouth before the phone rang.


	3. Chapter 3

Richie worried he was pushing his luck. Shirley Feeney was a lady, and a nice lady at that – not some starstruck teenager who would jump into the back of his DeSoto at a moment’s notice. She had responsibilities, a kid of her own, and here he was…

“Hello?” A sweet, feminine voice came through the earpiece of his motel room phone.

“Hi!” He squeaked, and then winced at the sound of his own voice. “I mean. Hello, Shirley,” he said, trying to put some Fonz-like bass in his voice. “It’s Richie Cunningham. From home! And the market.” He cringed at himself, loathing his own ridiculousness.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Hi, Richie! I was wondering if I’d be hearing from you.” A soft, muttered grunt came from her lips as she scolded someone in the distance. “Sorry, I’m feeding Eddie.”

“Oh, is it a bad time? I can call back…”

“No!” she said quickly. “I mean, I’ve got time to talk now.”

“Oh, great! Uh, I mean – I’m glad. So, I was wondering if you had time to go out tonight. Or stay in! Depending on what you feel like.”

“Yes!” Shirley said. “Um, I mean, I’d be delighted to. I have to get Eddie into bed for the night, but I’ll be free by eight. Laverne won’t be home until past then – God knows she’s always later than that. Can you bring a bottle of wine? I know just what I’d like to cook!”

“Wine? Sure!” Richie mentally counted the dollars he had left in his pocket and wondered if he could squeeze the money out. “I’ll be right there!”

“See you in a bit! Bye!” Shirley blurted out. 

Richie hung up and took a deep breath. What was he thinking? He and Shirley hadn’t seen each other in years and now they were going out on a date? The ink wasn’t even wet on his divorce papers yet.

But on the other hand, it was Shirley. Shirley was a nice girl. A really good girl. She wouldn’t make demands on him that were too terribly scary. They could have a nice, simple, quiet dinner together and no one would be the wiser. 

Richie headed out to the local liquor store and bought a bottle of red wine. Then he got on the crosstown bus to the address Shirley had scribbled out on a piece of paper for him. He was standing on her doorstep by the time eight o’clock struck. 

She opened the door, and the room wasn’t moodlit. She was wearing a mumu with a bright orange print, and her long hair had strained carrots in it. Wanly, she smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I couldn’t chill the wine before I got here,” he told her, lamely holding the bottle out for her inspection.

“That’s all right,” she said. “Come in. I have roast beef in the oven.”

He entered the apartment and prepared for an evening that hopefully wouldn’t be one he’d ever manage to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

Richie looked…clean…in the light of her shared apartment with Laverne. True, his mustache sort of made him look like that Rusty Jones character, but he was still handsome and sweet as the teenager she’d dated so long ago.

Shirley caught sight of herself in the toaster’s reflection and bit back a sigh as she headed to the kitchen. God, she should have surrendered to a full makeover before inviting him here. But she’d cleaned and brushed her hair, and borrowed one of Laverne’s less “friendly”-looking peasant blouses and skirts to wear. 

“How are things at the studio?” Shirley asked, wincing at her tone, wondering why she sounded so much like the housewife she’d failed to be.

“Oh, the same. I’ve got meetings on Monday, so I’m free until then.” Richie stood awkwardly in the living room, a hand in the pocket of his jeans. 

Shirley hummed thoughtfully, retrieving the big, well-done roast from the oven, and then poking at the carrots and potatoes she’d piled around him. Tender, and they all smelled delicious. She’d whipped up some mashed potatoes and boiled some turnips besides that, but the rolls were brown-and-serve, and the gravy had come out of a can. She would give him some apple crumble left over from yesterday and the last of the ice cream if he asked for it. 

She whirled around and Richie kept standing there, watching her. “Please sit,” she said.

He did, with an eye on the crib beside the couch. “Is that your son?” he asked.

She smiled. “Eddie, for Eddie Fisher,” she said. “Though I’ve come to regret that idea more every time I hear something new about what he’s done to poor Connie Stevens.” 

“Oh yeah, that was a rotten deal.” Richie glanced over the crib and waved at the child, and gave him an awkward smile. “He’s awfully cute.”

“Thank you,” Shirley said. She portioned out the plates and brought one to Richie, then placed her own on the coffee table. “Would you like to sit down? Do you want some wine?”

“Oh no, a Pepsi, please.” 

She retrieved one, and then poured herself a beer. They ate companionably, and she kept shooting him looks askance. Was this the boy who had so awkwardly sat on her Milwaukee couch and shot her looks that suggested she was the prettiest princess on the planet? Was it strange to sit beside her and have dinner with her, and was he thinking of his ex-wife and wishing he were with her instead?

“You’re a really great cook,” he said. “Next time I have a kitchen, I should make you something.”

“That would be delightful.” Walter had insisted that men don’t cook, or in his case, shouldn’t cook. Shirley had accepted that as part of her lot as a housewife, but Richie seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to share a life with a woman instead of putting on a puppet show. She’d forgotten how much she liked being with him.

“Tell me about everything. You’re living with Laverne again?”

Shirley nodded and explained that she and Eddie had flown home from Germany after everything with Walter had gone sideways. Everything was a legal mess, and she tried to keep it all light and breezy, not wanting to drag him down with her rotten news.

“I hope things work out. If Walter’s anything like me, he’s got to be missing Eddie.”

Walter was nothing like Richie, but she didn’t express the thought out loud.

“Let me get those,” Richie insisted once they’d finished their meals, and he was the one who took their empties away, scraped the plates, put the empties in the trash. “It’s the least I can do,” he said, and washed the dishes and flatware as well.  
Shirley went over to the hi-fi and pulled out a record. By the time Richie was done, the apartment was filled with the sound of Chuck Berry’s voice.

She held her arms out. 

“Dance with me?”


	5. Chapter 5

Richie jerked upward, awkwardly, and to his feet. “Sure,” he blurted out, wincing at his own voice as it cracked. “I mean, I would love to.” He walked two steps toward Shirley and wrapped an arm around her, then took her left hand in his. It was an elegant gesture – a slow-dance that slid into the march as old as time that was musical contact.

Together, they moved without a conscious choice to join forces. Shirley leaned into the warmth of Richie’s shoulder and felt the manicured softness of his hand against her skin. Nice. It had been too long – since Walter – that she’d spent any time at all with someone who bothered to pretend to care for her. 

They moved slowly, back and forth, avoiding the obstacles of her son’s high chair and the coffee table. Shirley felt like a prom princess, standing under a crown of balloons.

“You still dance well,” he informed her, as the song changed to a raucous rock tune. They proceeded to slow-dance to it, deciding to ignore the beat for the ones hammering away in their hearts. 

“Not better than Laverne,” she said, unable to keep the spirited tone out of her voice. “Everything comes naturally to her on the dance floor. And other places. Somewhat tragically.” Various incidents – some reported by her best friend, other by a gossipy Rhonda or Squiggy – had reached Shirley’s ears over time, but she chose to believe that they were exaggerating. At least she hoped the part about the nunnery was a lie...In any event, Laverne had settled down now that she and Lenny were running around together.

“Yeah, she knows how to move,” Richie remarked lightly. Shirley felt an electric shock of worry and then set it aside – Richie was not likely to be attracted to Laverne on any level, she didn’t seem to be his type.

“And Lenny isn’t learning that fact right now, God willing.”

“Wait, he and Laverne finally got together?”

“They’re getting married,” Shirley explained.

“Oh,” he said. “Fonzie always told me she should say yes, the next time he asked. ‘No one else likes being around Laverne as much as he does, and a girl like Laverne deserves to be drooled over’, is what he usually says.”

“How is Arthur?” Shirley asked.

“Oh, fine. Danny, his son, is fine. He’s thinking about popping the question to Pinky Tuscadero next time she’s in town.”

“Talk about a match made in heaven,” Shirley remarked. She let out a low sigh and watched their shadows dance against the wall. “This feels nice.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“It’s been a long time since anyone’s danced with me.” The second she said it, she worried that it sounded desperate. “Well, since Walter and I…separated.” 

“I know how that feels,” Richie said. Then he rubbed her lower back, but his hand strayed no further southward. Her own spread out along his skinny shoulders.

Her heart beat against his chest for a minute or two, just a second of pleasure and sycophancy. Nothing more and nothing less. She tilted her head back, and she looked him in the eyes, and her lips parted. He bowed his head towards her…

….And the front door flew open.


	6. Chapter 6

“Noo!” Shirley shouted, reeling away from Richie. She knew it couldn’t be Squiggy – he’d have prefaced his entrance with a ‘hello’. Rhonda wouldn’t made her way in through the kitchen door, Carmine was all the way in New York City, being famous and dodging her calls. The only person who could be entering the front door would have to be….

“I’m sorry!” Laverne said immediately, dragging Lenny in behind her. “We got finished early, and Mr. Responsible over here filled the gas tank too much and I couldn’t siphon it all out in the church parking lot in front of everyone.”

Lenny slapped his forehead. “No one told me they wanted to make out! If you’d SAID something, we coulda sat on the bench outside. Though I don’t think it’s safe for me to feel you up under a statue of the Virgin. If God’s always watching us he’s gotta be watching us double when we’re on holy land.”

“And pre-cana ran short, ‘cause Father Desmini has a bingo game every Tuesday, and that fella with the thick glasses got really long-winded about how he was afraid that him and his gal were going to hell for doing it before they got married,” Lenny said, then snorted. “Shows what they know! Me and Laverne’d already be sizzling!”

“And – wait a minute! You ate my dinner,” Laverne pouted, finally noticing the state of the kitchen.

“There’s plenty left!” Shirley said. 

“Yeah, but the potatoes are gonna be all mushy!” Laverne whined. Lenny shrugged at the statement and grabbed a plate, loading roast and vegetables and potatoes onto his plate, the stuff that Shirley and Richie hadn’t finished. “Aww, the onions are cold!”

“So put it in the oven for a minute!” Shirley said.

“That’ll dry out the meat!” Laverne protested.

“Then eat it lukewarm! Lenny doesn’t have a problem with it.”

Laverne rolled her eyes and mumbled something about Lenny being a human garbage disposal, but sat down to eat.

“Hey, Lenny,” said Richie, finally and awkwardly asserting himself. “Laverne.”

“Ey, Richie Cunningham!” Lenny said, his mouth full. “I ain’t seen you since the last time Fonzie died.” Shirley paused and raised an eyebrow at Lenny’s statement, but it was completely accurate so she couldn’t say anything against it.

“Are the two of you planning on staying here, or will you be GOING back to LEONARD’S apartment?” 

“We’d be delighted to,” said Len. “But we can’t, on account of Squig having a date in there.”

“Yeah, and the last time we interrupted them, She tried to put a curse on me,” Laverne said.

“Is that why you grew a mustache?” Shirley asked.

Laverne glowered. “You always gotta bring that up.”

Shirley let out a high-pitched laugh. “Yes! Well, I’m sure that Richie won’t mind

“Why don’t we go stand out on your porch?” Richie asked.

“It’s a veranda,” Shirley said,

“Balcony,” Laverne corrected her.

“I dunno what it’s called, I just hang my wet socks there to dry,” Lenny said.

“Out there?” Richie asked, taking Shirley’s hand.

“Oh,” she said, apple cheeked, blushing. “Well, all right.”

“We’ll watch Eddie for you,” said Laverne, but Shirley only had eyes for Richie.

They slipped outside together, while Laverne and Lenny shrugged and proceeded to demolish the rest of the roast.


	7. Chapter 7

The warm California breeze caressed Shirley’s skin, and she let out a low, happy sigh. It felt good to be somewhere cool after spending so much time in the kitchen – and away from her percolating anger at her mooching best friend and boyfriend. She wished she’d brought some wine out with them – something to ease the moment. Richie was right beside her, leaning on the railing, looking out over the beautiful, twinkling lights down in the valley. It glimmered magically, and Shirley remembered how she’d felt the day she’d arrived in Burbank, believing that her whole future was ahead of her, and that she was finally moving toward something fresh and interesting and important. Well, she’d come away with a beautiful little boy, but her fantasy of becoming a starlet and making a name for herself as an actress had fallen congenially aside in favor of diapers and counter jobs.

“California’s a really weird place, isn’t it?” observed Richie.

“I suppose so,” she said. “I’m not used to it being this warm in October, but I think that’s because I spent so much time in Germany. And then Walter spent a few months in Manila, but by then – well, I’m not going to air out more of my dirty laundry.”

“It’s all right. I have plenty of stains of my own,” he shrugged.

She smiled. “I hope you’ll get to see your sons soon.”

“So do I,” he admitted. “Laurie Beth’s not being mean about it, but it’s hard – the boys don’t understand that sometimes people just…”

“…Grow up,” she said. “And apart.” It was something she’d have to explain to Eddie when he was older, when Walter came back from his tour of duty. 

Automatically, she reached for Richie’s hand. They held together for a long time, just watching the stars streak overhead. When she turned to face him, it felt as if the fates were directing her motions instead of some voluntary muscular action. 

Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Her lips parted. His mustache tickled her top lip. The kiss went on and on and on, until she could feel his heart pounding against his chest.

For the first time in months, magic swept Shirley Feeney far away from herself. Like the Cinderella she’d always wanted to be, she was being dragged away into her own Hollywood fairytale. Even with all of the difficulties lying between them, it was bliss.

Then she heard the patio door open. “Aww,” Laverne remarked.

“Aren’t they cute?” Lenny asked her. “Just like Howdy Doody and Lambchop.”

Shirley quietly reached over and slammed the door shut without breaking the kiss.


End file.
